


impulsive decisions were made

by diversion (volacious)



Series: hq christmas advent calendar [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, donuts are involved, just a heads up, less of the comfort and more of the hurt but i swear it's not that sad, suna cries in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volacious/pseuds/diversion
Summary: “I’m outside your apartment,” Suna had said, trying to sound like he wasn’t on the verge of crying. “I forgot my keys.”There was a little pause, then Suna heard Osamu shifting around on the bed, probably to get up. “Outside? But Rin, wasn’t yer ticket for tomorrow afternoon?”“Yeah.” He kicked lightly at the floor. “I changed it.” He hesitated a little, but figured he’d already gone this far. “‘Cause I missed you.”“Oh, Rin,” Osamu sighed. “Alright, I’m comin’ to the door.” Then he hung up.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: hq christmas advent calendar [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035594
Comments: 17
Kudos: 148
Collections: hq christmas fic advent calendar





	impulsive decisions were made

**Author's Note:**

> happy december 3rd! here is some sunaosa hurt/comfort with an added bonus of donuts :)
> 
> (rated t for swearing)

The next morning, Suna wakes up not because of his body’s natural alarm clock, but because during one of his resurfaces to light sleep, he’d realised that the pair of arms that should be around him, holding him close and cuddling him, is missing.

Where is Osamu?

Still, Suna doesn’t open his eyes yet, first; instead, he tries to pat around blindly, as if he might find Osamu that way, be able to drag his arms back around himself, then fall back asleep. And he might have been able to do just that—if Osamu had still been there.

Unfortunately, he isn’t.

And so, dragged out of his deep sleep against his will, Suna reluctantly sits up in bed, cracks open his eyes, and lets out a big yawn as he stretches. Once he’s done, he looks in the mirror—only to be greeted with a horrible sight.

It appears that crying yourself to sleep in your boyfriend’s arms _does_ indeed have some unfavourable consequences—red, puffy eyes that stare back at you blearily when you look in the mirror the next morning.

Suna groans and pulls himself out of bed, hand reaching up to rub the sleep from his eyes only for him to wince. Right, puffy eyes. Not supposed to rub. Great—now he has swollen eyes that are simultaneously stinging _and_ itching.

Grumbling to himself, he trudges to the bathroom, where he finds that Osamu had already taken out his toothbrush from his backpack and placed it into a cup, ready for use. He must have done it this morning. Thinking about Osamu in the early hours of the morning, unpacking Suna’s stuff for him so Suna wouldn't have to do it himself later, makes Suna’s heart swell.

Last night had been a bit of a mess, Suna muses as he squeezes out a line of toothpaste onto his toothbrush and begins brushing. 

Well, ‘a bit’ might have been underestimating the entire situation. It had been a downright mess, really, and it had all started with Suna deciding he’d been having a horrible week and that he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to go to Osamu’s.

So he’d booked the next available tickets on the Shinkansen, tailed it to the station with just a backpack, and spent the next 2 hours something in transit.

Suna had justified it to himself as a little surprise for Osamu—wouldn’t it be a nice treat to wake up and find that your boyfriend, who had been due to arrive later that afternoon, had actually come over early and snuck into your bed? And then they could cuddle for an entire day or something and everything would be _fine_ , Suna could just forget about the absolutely terrible week he’d had.

Except that isn’t how everything had played out. By the time Suna had reached his designated station, it was already _late_. Late enough for only 24/7 stores and bars to be open. Suna had then paid a taxi driver to take him right to Osamu’s apartment complex and made it all the way to outside Osamu’s apartment— 

Only to realise that he’d forgotten his copy of the keys. 

By that point, it was already past midnight and _cold_. The winter jacket Suna had on wasn’t doing anything to deter the cold, cold wind from slipping in _somehow_ and the earlier adrenaline he’d had pumping through his veins when he’d made the impulsive decision had run out. Now he was just cold, tired, and hungry.

How could he have forgotten about the _keys_? The singular most important thing to bring, after his wallet? Osamu was already in bed, sleeping, at this time of night, which Suna had banked on before but was now starting to regret. 

God. He couldn’t do anything right, could he? Just like how he couldn’t even block that last spike which cost them the match, and how he’d messed up the spike in the match _before_ that. He’d lost them two games consecutively, been a total disappointment in terms of work, and now he was a total disappointment as a boyfriend, too.

Maybe he should just leave and go to a hotel for the night. Go to the train station in the afternoon and pretend he’d just gotten there. Smile and hug Osamu and kiss him and pretend he didn’t completely fuck up. But— 

Suna missed Osamu. A lot. It’d been _months_ since their last meeting in person, and tonight was just extra shitty and he just wanted Osamu’s arms around him.

He was such a selfish fucker.

So Suna had shakily dialled Osamu’s number, and brought his phone to his ear, listened to the tone ring. Wondered if it would wake Osamu up, and if it would be better or worse if it didn’t.

Osamu did pick up, in the end, voice rough and sleepy when he’d said, “Rin?”

“I’m outside your apartment,” Suna had said, trying to sound like he wasn’t on the verge of crying. “I forgot my keys.”

There was a little pause, then Suna heard Osamu shifting around on the bed, probably to get up. “Outside? But Rin, wasn’t yer ticket for tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yeah.” He kicked lightly at the floor. “I changed it.” He hesitated a little, but figured he’d already gone this far. “‘Cause I missed you.”

“Oh, Rin,” Osamu sighed. “Alright, I’m comin’ to the door.” Then he hung up.

Less than a minute later, the door to the apartment opened, and there was Osamu in all his sleep-mussed glory, complete with the bedhead and sleepy, lazy expression. He was wearing a set of pajamas that made him seem like the most comfortable person to hug in the world (definitely no bias talking here).

Suna had taken one look at him, then thrown himself into Osamu’s arms, buried his face in the crook of Osamu’s neck, and cried.

Osamu, still half asleep, had brought his arms up around Suna, hugged him tight as he whispered, “Missed ya too, Rin.”

The rest of the night had been a whole blurry mess—one that Suna would give anything to forget about, simply because now that the sun had come up and his mind is becoming increasingly more sober, he’s come to realise what an embarrassment he’d been, sobbing like a toddler who didn’t get a toy he wanted.

It reminds him of something Osamu had said, once, that Suna doesn’t cry often but that when he _does_ cry, it’s always a big mess. He’d said it with so much fondness in his eyes that Suna knew he hadn’t meant it in a _bad_ way, but he still feels bad now for making Osamu comfort him through it.

Finishing up his morning routine with a shower, Suna helps himself to Osamu’s closet and picks out a hoodie and a pair of underwear and sweatpants. He had just finished pulling on the hoodie when he hears the apartment door unlock.

“Rin? Ya awake yet?” Osamu calls. Suna hears rustling, indicating that Osamu had probably gone out to buy some food.

Instead of answering Osamu the normal way, Suna simply patters out of the bedroom and heads right for a back hug while Osamu is occupied with setting down the bags on the table.

“Oh, so yer awake.” Osamu turns around with a grin, twisting expertly so Suna is now pressed against his chest. “Mornin’, Sleepin’ Beauty. Or should I say, afternoon?”

“Come off it,” Suna says offhandedly. “Can’t be afternoon already, surely?”

“Check the time if ya think I’m lyin’ then,” Osamu says amusedly, leaning in to steal a small peck from Suna’s lips.

Suna does exactly that; when he looks back up from the 2:20 PM staring at him from his phone, Osamu’s wearing his signature victory smirk that makes Suna want to fondly kiss off his face.

So that’s what he does—he leans in, presses their lips together, nips down on Osamu’s bottom lip playfully. They kiss slowly, lazily, languidly, until Suna makes to deepen the kiss and Osamu pulls back, pressing a finger against Suna’s lips when Suna chases after him.

Suna pouts, then takes the finger into his mouth.

Osamu stares at him, a mixture of deadpan and amused. “Not what I intended but suit yerself,” he drawls, pulling his finger out of Suna’s mouth and wiping it against the hoodie Suna had picked out of his closet. “Oh, and I bought donuts.”

This draws Suna’s attention to the plastic bag on the table behind which, upon further inspection, turns out to contain a box of donuts. His eyes light up with joy and he grins when he presses another kiss to Osamu’s cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

“Yer welcome,” Osamu replies as he steps to the side to let Suna have at the donuts. “Thought ya could use some cheerin’ up after last night.”

“Last night didn’t happen,” Suna says casually, his eyes flicking between the assortment of donuts Osamu had brought home. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really?” Osamu sounds like he has the I-believe-you look on his face but Suna is too caught up in his donut selection process to confirm it. “‘S not what that sounded like when ya were cryin’ your eyes out on my chest.”

“What, me? Crying? You must have got the wrong person.” Suna finally settles on a classic for his first donut, with powdered sugar aplenty sitting atop.

“I’m not sayin’ we haveta talk about it right _now_ ,” Osamu begins, reaching for a donut of his own. “But we’re gonna be talkin’ about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Suna mutters, biting into his donut and chewing it almost forlornly. Talking about things—Suna truly thinks that humans have progressed past the need for oral communication. They should be able to communicate silently, telepathically, so no one has to go through the mortifying ordeal of explaining their mental breakdown to anyone.

He takes another bite of the donut, sullenly. Osamu, mirroring him, does the same.

Suna is still sulking a little when he finishes his first donut, but the sugar seems to be doing its job because he feels marginally better now. He licks his fingers of the excess powdered sugar, debating on his next donut choice.

“Oh, ya got some sugar on yer face, lemme get that.” Osamu, having finished his own donut as well, beckons for Suna to come closer.

Suna obliges and leans over, expecting Osamu to wipe it off with a tissue or with his thumb, if he’s feeling particularly romantic.

Instead, Osamu licks the sugar right off his cheek.

“Babe,” Suna deadpans. “What the fuck.”

“Mmm,” Osamu says instead of answering Suna. “Yummy.”

He looks at Osamu, incredulity clear on his face. Osamu’s only response is a cheeky grin as he picks up his second donut.

“Better get a move on,” Osamu says after biting into the donut, his cheeks full. “I’m gonna win at this rate.”

“This isn’t a competition,” Suna retorts even as he makes a quick selection and bites into his second donut. “And don’t think that’s gonna distract me from the fact that you just _licked_ my cheek, ‘Samu.”

“That didn’t happen.” Osamu’s eyes shine with silent mirth. “I don’t know what yer talking about.”

Oh, so now he’s just outright mocking Suna. What a jerk. Suna kicks out at Osamu, who skilfully dodges. “You’re such a jerk, ‘Samu, making fun of me,” Suna mutters, trying his hardest to keep on an annoyed expression even as endearment colours his words.

“Ya love it,” Osamu smiles, smug as the cat that got the cream.

Suna sighs defeatedly. “I do,” he admits. “I love you and all your jerk qualities, ‘Samu.” Then, leaning in a bit closer, like he’s about to confess something of heavy importance, he whispers, “And also the custard on your face.”

It’s entirely justified for Osamu to do what he does next—which is to lean in and smear the custard on his face onto Suna’s cheek, earning a shriek from Suna.

“Love ya too, Rin.” Osamu grins as Suna glares at him balefully, wiping at his cheek with a tissue.

“Changed my mind,” Suna mutters. “I don’t love you anymore.”

That’s a lie, and they both know it. Still, Osamu plays his dutiful part and gasps in shock, dramatically, pulling the box of donuts between them over to him and covering them protectively.

“To think I gave ya my heart, and ya just throw it away?” Suna has to stifle a giggle at the fake hurt, clearly overexaggerated, on Osamu’s face. “How could you? No more donuts for ya.”

And if they spend the rest of the afternoon play-fighting over donuts, then moving over to cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, that’s for no one to know but them.

**Author's Note:**

> (and you and me aha.)
> 
> i started this fic with the premise of powdered sugar and ended up with hurt/comfort instead um ?? also i wrote like 3 different beginnings before ending up with this one so,,
> 
> thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! kudos and comments are very much appreciated!! if you'd like to send me some december (winter? christmas?) prompts for a ship that i've written before, you can do so at [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/volacious)
> 
> see u guys tmrw! (hopefully)


End file.
